Everything Comes Back Around
by jackalope21
Summary: After the movie. With their faces made public, Tuck and FDR are sent back to their desks until the mess can be cleaned up. In the midst of the change, an old friend resurfaces and adds a nice balance of normalcy. Unfortunately, with their exposure on the national news, a new light is shined on the two agents making it easy for their enemies to seek revenge. T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello All! This is just a little something that I hope you guys like. Enjoy!**

**Everything Comes Back Around**

Chapter 1

Being grounded was awful, but there was nothing either agent could do about it. With their faces plastered all over the news, they had no choice but to wait until the software finished erasing their faces from the internet.

Strange little thing it was, frightening too. A program had been created a few years ago that could target an individual's face and through facial recognition technology, find it and erase whatever file contained it. The process took a while though. The gravity of their exposure wasn't entirely known which meant they could be on desk duty for months as the program searched any and every file contained on the limitless void known as the internet.

"Seriously, it was a stupid idea man." FDR said from his desk across the room. Tuck looked up briefly to see his brother typing away at something on his computer. "You should've known better."

"Yeah well, if I hadn't put the ad up, neither of us would've met Lauren." He replied indignantly. "So shut it."

FDR chuckled to himself. Collins found out about Tuck's dating ad when she was informed the two had made it to the national news. She told him to immediately shut it down. He obliged.

As he logged on, Tuck was met with an inbox full of women –and a couple men- making contact with him. He was flattered and a smirk began to form on his lips. He scrolled through the messages, but didn't bother opening them. It didn't matter; he just wanted a count to show FDR that he wasn't as big a nerd as his friend thought.

After a few seconds, nearly a minute, he reached the bottom. Ninety-four. Granted eight were from men, but hey, he wasn't mad. Chuckling to himself, Tuck went back to the main page so he could begin the process of shutting down his profile. His eyes naturally glanced to the side where 'people he might like' were displayed. One in particular caught his attention.

"Holy shit…" he mumbled to himself.

The words barely made it through his lips when he clicked on the image and was presented with the profile of someone he hadn't seen in years. Tuck suddenly laughed forcing FDR to look at his brother curiously.

"What?" he asked casually.

"Uh, remember that bird I knew a long time back?" Tuck asked.

He gripped the edge of his laptop and spun it around so his friend could see the picture. FDR shifted in his seat and leaned on his desk's surface so he could look as closely as possible without standing.

"Oh right," he nodded. FDR sat back and Tuck turned the screen back to him. "Amy, or Amanda… what's her name again?"

"Angela." Tuck replied sarcastically. FDR knew her name. Hell, the man had hit on her a handful of times before she disappeared. "She's back in town." He continued.

FDR glanced out of the corner of his eye and noticed Tuck writing something down. He smiled to himself and turned his attention back to his work as though he hadn't been spying. He knew what Tuck was doing. Having no choice but to erase the site, Tuck was writing down her email address before deleting his profile.

"Didn't you guys date or something?" FDR asked leisurely. Tuck didn't speak, but glowered through his lashes at his brother. FDR caught the action and immediately had trouble fighting the smile. "What?" he defended. "I'm just asking."

"You're being an ass." Tuck said under his breath as he finished deleting the site.

FDR chuckled, "It's not my fault you couldn't close the deal."

"We were friends." He snapped exhaustedly, as though he'd been repeating the statement a thousand times over instead of saying it only once. "Let it go."

"Whatever you say, man." FDR said mostly to himself. "Whatever you say."

Tuck grumbled his insults but didn't speak them out loud. It had been years since he'd seen or heard from Angela. Many years, in fact. It was a nice surprise seeing her –even if it was in picture form- after so long.

Once the site was gone, Tuck opened his email account and began to type a message. It was short and to the point. He didn't know what else to really say and decided the basics were the only important thing. So he asked how she was, how long she'd been in town and if she was interested in grabbing some coffee to catch up.

He sat back and eyed the message for a moment or two. It was three lines long and somehow he felt like he'd come on too strong. It was a ridiculous thought, but one he had trouble ignoring.

His index finger hovered over the mouse, hesitating to press the send button when he felt something shift behind him. No sooner than Tuck turned to see FDR behind him, his partner reached forward and sent the message.

"Wha… what the hell?" Tuck snapped.

"Well you didn't look like you were going to do it." FDR replied. He walked back around the desk and towards his to grab his jacket. "Come on. Time to go home."

"What?"

Tuck twisted in his seat to eye the clock.

"Yeah," FDR nodded sarcastically. "You've been staring at that thing for twenty minutes. Jesus, you're just asking for coffee."

"Yeah but," Tuck stood and threaded his arms through his jacket. "You think Katie'll be okay with it?"

"It's coffee." FDR replied in a deadpan voice. "Besides, weren't you two dating when you knew this chick?"

"Right…" He nodded to himself before asserting his statement. "Right."

FDR shook his head and chuckled to himself as he waited for Tuck to shut off his office computer and grab his laptop. He fought the urge to call the Englishman an idiot and instead kept his mouth closed as they left.

~~~!~~~

In the back of his mind, Tuck kept wanting to check his email during his dinner with Katie and Joe. The two were taking things slow, getting to know one another again, so they were having dinner at her house with their son, but his mind was elsewhere. He kept wondering if one of those little numbers on the corner of the email icon on his phone were from Angela.

After tucking his son in and saying farewell to his ex-wife, Tuck walked to his car. Once inside, he pulled his phone out and checked the messages. Sure enough, second from the top, was a response from Angela. He smiled wide and set the phone down in the passenger seat. He didn't want to linger in front of Katie's house to write an email. That just seemed a bit rude.

He did, however, revisit the email when he made it home. Tossing his keys onto his island, Tuck reached for his phone and again sifted through the messages to find hers. He ducked into his fridge for a beer and opened her email.

"_Tucker!_" was in the opening line and forced him to chuckle. He set the phone down on the island and leaned over it to read as he opened his beer. _"Long time no see. I'd love to go for coffee. Give me a call when you can. 818-555-1342. ~Angela."_

He didn't bother waiting long. After a glance to his clock, Tuck decided he might as well give her a call immediately. Honestly he was just excited. He remembered Angela being funny and someone he liked hanging out with. Granted time can alter memories, so there was a chance he was building the memory up more in his mind than it had been in reality, but he doubted it.

The phone rang for a moment before she finally answered.

"_Hello?"_ a young woman answered in an accent akin his own.

"Angela?" he asked tentatively.

"_Tuck!"_ she chimed, the declaration soon followed by a giggle. "_How are you? My god, it's been forever."_

"I know." He chuckled. "I'm uh, I'm good. You, how are you?"

He fumbled briefly over his words and hated it. Others found it charming and endearing, but he hated it most of the time.

"_I'm good."_ She laughed. "_Wow, what are the odds, hm?"_

"I know what you mean." He said. Tuck took a sip of his beer and headed into his living room to sit. "So, what've you been up to?"

"_Nothing really. I've just moved back a month ago."_

"Here to stay?"

"_For the time, yeah. My wings have been clipped, so I'm seeking alternative employment."_

He chuckled. When he first met her, Angela was a flight attendant, always bouncing around from city to city, country to country. Keeping her pinned down once seemed impossible.

"Must be driving you mad." He teased.

"_A bit."_ She agreed. "_And you? Still working at the agency?"_

He felt a shock of cold and nearly choked on his beer.

"Hm?" he coughed.

"_The agency."_ She repeated unsurely. _"What was that place called again? Flights of Fancy?"_

"Oh," he relaxed when he realized she meant _travel_ agency. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm still there."

"_Hope you own it by now."_ She joked.

"Corporate." He said after immediately forming a lie. "They have me working in the big offices now."

"_Ah, very nice."_

He smiled to himself and decided he might as well ask.

"So, coffee then?" he blurted unceremoniously.

"_Yeah, of course. I'm free tomorrow if you are?"_

"Sure." He nodded. "Ten?"

"_That works."_

He smiled to himself at the small victory, though why he viewed it as one he didn't know. He made plans with her to meet at a little café and ended the call.

Still smiling to himself, Tuck drank the rest of his beer and readied himself for bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tuck sat at the outdoor table, tapping his index finger against the worn wood as he waited impatiently for Angela to arrive. He'd been there for nearly twenty minutes already. In his excitement, he'd arrived much earlier than he meant to. Looking down to check his watch again, Tuck didn't realize he'd been spotted.

"Now," she said. The new voice forced Tuck to jump internally and look up quickly. "I know I'm not late."

A wide smile spread across his lips, one she soon shared. Tuck shoved himself up from his seat and stepped forward, wrapping his arms securely around the young woman who met his in stride.

She giggled when he lifted her off the ground briefly before setting her back down. When they parted it wasn't much, and they slid into their seats across from each other.

"Look at you!" she beamed. Angela took off her sunglasses and rested them on top of her head so she could see him clearly. "You look oddly responsible and grown up."

"Really?" Tuck glanced to his wardrobe. He was wearing a blue button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up and a white shirt peeking out from underneath. "I don't see it." He added when he looked back up at her. "You on the other hand, very grown up."

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so."

He was a little surprised by her outfit, but only because she looked so feminine. Ordinarily, Angela wore loose fitting men's shirts and jeans. While the jeans remained, she now sported a loose fitting, but very feminine, tunic styled top that suited her well.

"Well what's it been now," she asked softly. "Six years?"

"Seven." He sighed. "It's been seven."

"Wow," Angela muttered. She fell back into her seat and seemed to weigh the time that had passed. It was more than she thought, but when she looked back to Tuck, the smile returned. "What have you been up to then? How's Katie?"

Tuck took a deep breath and exhaled it loudly.

"So much," he replied with a heavy smile. "Uh, let's see. Last time I saw you, she was pregnant." Angela's eyes went wide in happy surprise. "And his name's Joe. He's amazing."

"Awe."

"Then three years later we got divorced."

Her smile immediately fell. "Oh…"

"And now we're trying to make it work again." He finished.

"Oh." She chimed a bit more upbeat than before. "Well that's good then, isn't it?"

"We'll see."

"Oh come off it." She sighed, kicking his gently in the shin. "Unless you've turned into a prat, it'll be fine."

He laughed at her statement and shook his head.

"So, how's that _rotten_ little friend of yours Franklin?" she asked with a teasing tone.

"Good, he's good." Tuck smiled. "Has a girlfriend now, a proper one."

She was shocked which he found funny. Before she disappeared, Tuck had known Angela off and on for nearly three years so she was very well aware of FDR and how he was with women. Hell, she'd been on the receiving end more than once.

"What about you?" Tuck asked, more than willing to shift the conversation away from him. "Married, kids… dog?"

Angela laughed. "None of the above." She said. "Never been able to find a bloke willing to put up with me."

"Oh come on," he sighed. "You're not so bad."

The pair shared a laugh and continued to talk. It was like old times, for the most part. While seven years was a long time, Tuck was happy to see she hadn't changed. Angela was still oddly upbeat, smiled consistently and such a sweet person. Perhaps that was why she was a flight attendant for so long. She seemed to have the perfect personality for it.

More than an hour had passed, nearly becoming two, before the pair paid for their drinks and left. Tuck walked alongside Angela towards her car.

"How bout tonight then?" he asked. "There's a pub not too far from here. We can all meet up, have some drinks, play some pool."

"Okay." She nodded. "I'd love to see that lech of a man you call brother."

Tuck laughed, but couldn't refute her statement. When they turned the corner, they were presented with Angela's car. She turned, gave Tuck a strong hug and said her goodbye. He watched her leave briefly before reaching for his phone and calling FDR so they could set up a time to meet at the _Blarney Stone._

~~~!~~~

FDR's phone was ringing from its spot in the kitchen. He darted through the house, struggling not to slip on the slick floor and keep his towel up.

"Yeah?" he said before the phone reached his ear.

"_Sleeping?"_ Tuck mocked from the other end of the line.

"Shower." FDR corrected. He glanced to the clock and began to smile. "Are you just leaving the coffee place?"

"_Don't be an ass."_ He said, completely neglecting to answer the question. "_You up for some drinks tonight?"_

"Uh…" he thought it over for a moment, weighing whether or not he had plans. "Yeah, sure."

"_Great. Bring Lauren, okay?"_

The cocky grin returned to FDR's lips.

"Is this like… another date?" he teased. "Angela going to be there too?"

"_It's not a bloody date."_ Tuck sighed. He should have known this was how FDR would treat the situation.

"Sure man, whatever you say." He laughed. "You bringing Katie then?"

"_Nah. It might be a bit much at the moment."_

"Right," FDR stretched the word out for longer than he should have.

Tuck grumbled something under his breath. Before FDR could make fun of him, the screen to his phone lit up. FDR checked and sure enough, Tuck had hung up. He kept his smile and felt himself laugh again as Lauren came into the kitchen.

"Hey," he smiled, wrapping his arms around her when she hugged him.

Her hair was still wet from their shower, but she had put on a robe to come downstairs. Her house, after all, was damn near all glass.

"Tuck?"

"Yeah," he nodded. He made sure his phone was connected to the charger again before giving her his full attention. "He wants to meet up at the _Blarney Stone_ tonight for some drinks."

He never had to bother asking Tuck where they were going. It was always the same and ever since the Blarney had remodeled, adding darts and pool tables, FDR was surprised Tuck ever left.

"Yeah, sure." She nodded. "I'd love to. Is Katie coming?"

"No," FDR said before chuckling at an inside joke. He noticed Lauren's confusion. "But he's bringing an old friend."

He said it in such a way, Lauren couldn't help but narrow her eyes skeptically.

"Do I even want to know?"

"I'll explain later." He said. "In the mean time,"

FDR bent down and lifted Lauren into the air. She squeaked, but held tight. Together they disappeared upstairs again to finish what Tuck had interrupted.

~~~!~~~

Tuck and Angela were busy shooting a game of pool by the time FDR and Lauren made it to the bar. Angela was bending over, ready to take a shot when someone landed a sharp blow to her backside.

"There she is!" a familiar voice bellowed. It was the only thing that kept her from spinning around and breaking the pool cue over the guy's head.

She stood and faced a wide smiling FDR. He seemed to think what he'd done was hilarious while the little blond at his side shook her head.

"Ass, Franklin. You're a right ass."

"Well, it's nice to know not everything changes." He joked. "Come here."

He closed the distance between them and hugged her tightly. Angela smiled and returned the affection. Lauren stayed back and let the old friends reconnect while she said hello to Tuck. FDR had asked if she was alright with the way he planned to greet Angela. She was, but told him if Angela punched him in the nose he deserved it.

"Long time kid." FDR said as he and Angela parted. "Jesus, it's been almost a decade, right?"

"Apparently." She agreed.

"Oh," FDR chimed. He reached for the little blonde's hand and pulled Lauren just a bit forward. "This is Lauren, my girlfriend."

"Hi." She smiled, offering Angela her hand.

"Pleasure." Angela replied with a kind shake. "And sorry for your misfortune."

"Hey!" FDR snapped. Tuck, Angela and Lauren laughed at his response.

"Oh, he's not so bad." Lauren replied. "So, you guys have known each other for a really long time I guess?"

"Yeah," she nodded. Tuck was busy taking his shot and before she could protest, FDR swooped in and snatched her stick away. She grumbled, but didn't put up much of a fight. "You can say that."

Lauren shook her head at FDR's behavior, but the environment was light so she couldn't help but smile.

While the guys played, Lauren and Angela sat off to the side criticizing their shots. Well, they were basically attacking FDR.

"Oi!" Angela snapped. "If you're going to confiscate my turns, at least make the shots."

"You better knock it off." FDR warned as he pointed the stick at her from across the table.

Angela openly rolled her eyes.

"So, how do you guys know each other?" Lauren asked. She knew, partially, but wanted to have something to talk about with Angela, and there was really nothing else.

"A few years back, I ran into Tuck at a bar." She said, pointing to the Englishman that glanced up and smiled when he heard his name. "We just hit it off I suppose."

"FDR said you were a flight attendant or something?"

"Yeah." She nodded. Angela finished off the last of her beer. "It kept me busy. I was hardly ever home, but when I was, the three of us would generally hang out. It wasn't until I got put on international flights that we started losing touch. It was hard to make schedules align, you know?"

"I bet." Lauren agreed. She didn't know if Angela was aware of the guys' real occupation so she didn't remark on it, but she could easily see them being gone whenever Angela was in town. "It's easy to lose touch with people when work keeps them busy."

Angela nodded. "But I'm back now, grounded, so to speak."

Lauren smiled. She liked Angela in the few minutes they'd spent together. She seemed normal which she knew was good for the guys. Plus, she was someone who knew them even before Tuck's ex-wife. Even though Angela wouldn't be able to give her everything, she knew there had to be a few embarrassing stories in there somewhere and she planned to get them.

"Who wants to double-team?!" FDR suddenly bellowed.

The odd phrase drew both young women's eyes –as well as most of the patrons- to see him standing near the table, obviously referencing a new game.

Angela leaned to the side. The eight ball was gone along with the solid colored billiards.

"Hey!" she snapped. She slid off her seat and closed the distance between her and FDR. "You were supposed to win."

"You left too many balls on the table." He defended weakly.

"I leave your balls on the table." She growled under his breath.

FDR smiled as he moved to the table and took the beer he'd left beside Lauren.

The two young women agreed to join the game and play teams. They played men versus women and then 'couples'. It was while they were playing 'couples' that FDR had the chance to show Lauren what he meant when he told her about Tuck and Angela.

The pair was standing off to the side talking to one another. It was Lauren's shot, so they didn't bother with the table. Tuck was standing at an angle, his back to the table as he said something to Angela that made her laugh. They were standing less than two feet away from each other and it was obvious to the two spying that something was going on between them.

"Did anything ever happen?" Lauren asked FDR quietly.

"With Tuck, you kidding?" he scoffed. FDR took a sip of his beer and set it down. "That guy has a serious problem with tunnel vision." She gave him a curious look. "If he thinks they're just friends, he ignores any sign. Besides, work and stuff."

"Oh, right. So she doesn't know."

He shook his head.

"That's kind of sad. They seem to like each other." She said, noting how well they got along with one another and how comfortable Tuck looked.

"Yeah well, he started dating Katie like… a year into it. And again, tunnel vision."

That was the only thing that ever bothered FDR about Tuck. He focused so much on one thing, he never noticed anything else. It was obvious to anyone on the outside that the two had a school-yard crush on each other back in the day, but it never led anywhere. They'd just started working at the agency –something Tuck liked to bring up whenever FDR suggested he ask Angela out- and then a year or so afterward, when he was ready to balance spy life and the real world, he started dating Katie. It was kind of sad the more FDR thought about it.

~~~!~~~

~~!~~

~!~


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A few weeks had passed and since it seemed that Angela truly wasn't going anywhere, Tuck wanted to fold her back into his life again. FDR agreed. He liked the young woman and she made his brother happy, so it worked.

Lauren liked her too and gladly suggested everyone have dinner together. Ever since she and FDR began dating, she'd been wanting to get everyone together so she could introduce him to her best friend Trish. Any tension between her and Tuck had been all but erased when he started dating Katie again, so she wanted them all to get together.

Tuck brought the idea to Angela. He wasn't as thrilled at it as Lauren and neither was FDR. It wasn't that anything was necessarily wrong with the idea in theory. It was that they had to spend time with her friend Trish, and neither spy wanted to do that. But, for Lauren FDR had to agree and for FDR, Tuck had no choice.

Katie couldn't make it. She'd been sick with some kind of cold, one she passed to Joe, which left them both housebound. He needed Angela to be able to join him. He didn't want to be the awkward fourth wheel at a dinner with a woman he'd dated, his best friend and Lauren's lush friend.

To his relief, Angela agreed. She thought it'd be fun too, though why she didn't know. In truth, she just wanted to make him feel better. Angela only wanted to spend time with Tuck –even FDR for some strange reason- but she wasn't all that excited about meeting Trish. Just by the way Tuck said her name she knew it'd likely be a trying night.

She told them to come by her place if they wanted to, thinking it easier to share a vehicle than take separate ones. FDR agreed and told her they'd be there around eight.

Angela sat on the vanity in her bathroom putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She'd finished her face, but it came time for the body. That was the part she always hated.

A large container of matte concealer rested on the foe marble top near her crossed legs. She took it and twisted off the lid. The color matched her skin perfectly, but not the skin on her face. She grimaced slightly at it. The metallic bottom was showing through, a thin ring of concealer the only thing left behind from so many uses. Sighing softly, Angela dabbed some of the thick mixture on her fingers and turned her attention to the mirror.

Marks marred her chest, marks of things that had long since passed and events she'd never be rid of. They were scars left behind from a life she once called her own.

With the meticulous precision acquired over time, Angela began to cover the circular scars on her chest. Soon, they began to disappear and when she swept a bit of powder over them, her past was magically wiped away.

Her eyes began to burn with the promise of tears as she stared at the marks only she knew about. She could still remember what caused them as easily as if they'd just happened.

When a tickle began in her throat, Angela quickly coughed to clear it. Shaking the memories away, Angela slid off the countertop and gathered the jewelry she planned to wear that night from the small metal tin nearby. She had other things to think about, like the night she was going to spend with Tuck.

Her stomach fluttered whether she wanted it to or not at the thought of being around him again. She shoved it down and focused on what she needed to do to finish getting ready.

There was a knock on the door while Angela was in the middle of putting an earring on. She knew if it was either Tuck or FDR they'd likely walk in on their own. Sure enough, a moment later she heard a male voice calling her name.

"_Angel, you here love?"_ Tuck called loudly.

"Coming!" she yelled back, clasping the hoop in her ear before bouncing down the stairs and grabbing her boots along the way.

When she made it to the platform and turned to finish walking down the rest of the steps that faced her front door, she noticed Tuck wasn't alone. FDR stood behind him, his hands in his pockets and a stern gaze in his eyes.

"Why do I suddenly feel like I've done somethin' wrong?" she asked, mostly to herself as the man in the blazer and pale blue shirt stared at her.

"Did you?" FDR asked, a glint of a smile touching his eyes.

It lightened the mood substantially.

"You look good Foster." She told him, eying the nicely pressed blazer and blue button up shirt.

The color complimented his eyes, but the grays of his slacks and jacket were dull enough it didn't detract. This time a real smile touched his lips and he nodded to her.

"Thanks." He told her kindly.

"Eh-hem."

Attention shifted to Tuck, the young man holding out his arms as though he were modeling.

"And you too Tuck." Angela laughed, taking her seat on the platform.

He exaggerated a victorious nod, his smile widening. And he did look good. She always liked it when he wore a simple button up shirt. This time it was black, the sleeves rolled to his elbows with his leather cuff on one wrist, his watch on the other and the slightest bits of his tattoos peeking out on his chest since the top few buttons were undone. She wondered briefly if he was trying to make Lauren jealous too, but she didn't complain. It meant she got to benefit from it in the end.

A smile formed on her lips as she pulled the last of her boots on and fixed her jeans inside. With a sigh, she shoved herself up and stood on the platform.

"Well, since we're throwing round compliments, how's this?"

She modeled, going so far as to put a hand on her hip and pop it out like a supermodel would causing both men to laugh at her. She'd chosen her favorite outfit for the forced union. It was nothing special only a pair of dark skinny jeans with a few of the 'weathered' areas that made them look worn and not brand new. She topped it off with loose fitting shirt that some might call a vest but in reality was barely more than fashionably draped fabric with arm holes, a pale lavender color, and a black camisole underneath.

Rather out of character, Angela chose to show some cleavage. She went light on the jewelry, wearing the one necklace she coveted and the hoop earrings she hated. Angela even went so far as to style her hair and wear real makeup on her face too. She'd changed greatly since the last time the guys had seen her, but neither was complaining.

"You look good." FDR told her honestly.

She smiled to him thankfully, her eyes shifting to Tuck and the crooked grin on his lips.

"You look beautiful darling." He said.

Her smile widened substantially.

"You see, I knew you were my favorite." She teased as she walked down the rest of the steps.

Tuck turned to FDR smiling smugly.

"Told you mate." He grinned.

FDR openly rolled his eyes at the two of them as Angela reached for her leather jacket and threw it on.

"So then, we're to ride together like a big happy family?" she teased.

"You're a smartass, you know that?" FDR offered.

"Duh." She grinned.

With a shake of the head, FDR opened the door and waited for them to follow behind him. Angela made sure to grab her purse and locked up before they made their way downstairs to FDR's car.

~~~!~~~

The trio made their way up the young woman's walkway towards her front door, each of them nervous for their own reasons though they were all fairly similar. Just before they reached the final step up, FDR turned to face them both. Angela and Tuck jumped from the sudden movement.

"Okay, ground rules." He said.

Tuck and Angela glanced to one another out of the corner of their eyes before turning their confused expression to FDR. He knew ordinarily nothing would have to be said, but for some reason FDR was nervous. He wasn't even sure why. The only thing he could think was this would be the first time everyone was all together and there were too many variables, so he had to make sure the two he could 'control' wouldn't cause trouble. If he'd been thinking clearly, he would have realized neither intended to do anything to jeopardize the night, but again, he was nervous.

"You joking?" Tuck asked.

"No." FDR replied. "Okay, Tuck, no flirting."

"Wha…" he scoffed in mock shock. "I told you I'd back off mate. I'm out."

Angela raised a brow at the man to her left and briefly wondered what the hell he was talking about.

"Angela,"

Her eyes went wide to feign innocence when FDR called her.

"No sarcasm. No snide comments. No being… yourself."

"Oi!" she snapped. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look," he said. "I know you guys get along, but Trish is her best friend and I just don't want you to make her cry or something."

"When have I ever made anyone cry?"

He gave her a knowing look, one she felt being duplicated by the man next to her.

"That was once." She defended causing each of them to roll their eyes at her. "I'm going to be polite. I promise. I wasn't going to say anything. I swear." She finished by holding up her hand in a familiar salute. "Scout's honor."

"You weren't a boy scout." FDR mumbled.

"Franklin," she planted her hands on his shoulders. "Calm the hell down."

FDR took a breath and nodded. "Right. Thanks."

She nodded reassuringly to the man, hoping he'd realize she wasn't _that_ big of a bitch as he turned and knocked on the door. She knew deep down he didn't, but being as nervous as he was, it wasn't hard to see why he was worried about her too.

There was shuffling on the other side of the door before it swung open and Lauren greeted them with a wide smile.

"Hi!" she beamed, instantly wrapping her arms around FDR. She kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "Come on in."

FDR nodded and followed the young woman into the entryway of her house, Tuck and Angela trailing behind. Thankfully, the space was wide open leading directly into the kitchen/dining room area and they weren't relegated to shuffling around one another.

"I hope you guys are hungry." She beamed, still smiling as though she'd planned the perfect night. Honestly, she was happy to play the hostess for once. She was treating the night like a proper dinner party with more than just one or two people. "Can I take your jacket?"

"Yes, thank you." Angela replied, stripping herself of her leather jacket when FDR grabbed it.

"I've got it." He replied, taking hers and walking into the front sitting room. He tossed it and his own over the edge of a chair.

Before anyone could talk, there was another knock on the door. Lauren seemed to jump.

"Oh," she chimed, moving towards the door. "That's my friend Trish."

FDR and Tuck instantly groaned. They'd done their best to keep from meeting Trish in person. The only way they knew her was through the surveillance they'd done on Lauren and the way they heard her talk didn't make either of them willing to meet her. Angela was simply apprehensive because of their reactions to her.

"Great." Tuck sighed out loud.

None of the trio was enthusiastic about it when another blond woman walked into the room. She was older than Lauren and not as well put together. She didn't seem as nice either, all but ogling the guys and glaring at Angela without reason. The Englishwoman cocked a brow at the stranger's stare.

"Trish, this is Tuck, FDR and Angela." Lauren introduced. "Guys, this is my best friend Trish."

They waved their hello's to the woman and stood, yet again in the awkwardness that threatened to consume them.

"So, how about some wine?" Trish offered after a moment of forced silence.

"Good idea." Lauren breathed relieved.

When the two disappeared into the kitchen, Angela found herself grabbing Tuck's wrist to check the time. He smiled to himself, but wasn't above checking too, each receiving a smack from FDR when they had.

FDR joined Trish and Lauren leaving Angela and Tuck alone briefly. They shared a wicked smile.

"I've never seen him so nervous." Angela whispered.

"Me neither." Tuck smiled. He lightly tugged her arm. "Come on."

The two joined the others just as Lauren finished pouring wine into five separate glasses. FDR handed both Tuck and Angela their drinks.

"So," Trish chimed again. That seemed to be how she broke tension. "How do you guys know each other?"

Though the question was aimed at the three newcomers, she mainly looked between FDR and Angela. It made Tuck eye the two of them curiously; wondering briefly if Trish thought there was something there. The same odd expression touched Angela's features as well. She didn't understand the leading glance.

"I met Tuck a few years back." Angela answered unsurely. "Franklin through Tuck."

"Oh yeah?" she asked in a falsely interested voice, her eyes falling to Angela. "That's nice. What do you do for a living?"

Angela felt her brow slowly rise. There was no segway between anything Trish asked. She simply asked, like she had a list in her head.

"Flight attendant." Angela replied in a lackluster voice.

"That must be nice." Trish said. She sounded as though she was answering the question on autopilot, like she didn't care what Angela said. It was strange. "Like it?"

"I'm retired."

"Retired?" Trish repeated, her face twisting in disbelieving confusion. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine." Angela answered simply.

"And you're already retired."

Angela nodded, taking a leisurely sip of her wine.

"Why?"

Trish may not have meant for her word to sound so judging, but it did. Then again, if Lauren's reaction was any indication, maybe she did. After all, you don't tend to groan and drink half your glass of wine on one long gulp when someone asks something unexpected.

"Time for a change," Angela answered slowly. She began to wonder if she could run for the door. "I suppose."

The tension was remaining and even more prevalent than before now that Trish didn't seem to want to let up on the young woman. Thankfully, Lauren chimed in and said dinner was ready. With FDR's help, they gathered it up and brought it to the table where Trish, Tuck and Angela already sat refilling their wine glasses.

Tuck sat beside Angela near the edge of the table while Trish, for some reason, took the head and FDR and Lauren adjacent the other pair. It was… odd. Lauren sat across from Angela, FDR across from Tuck. Trish had pre-picked her spot at the head of the table, wanting to be between Angela and Lauren and kept her eyes on everyone. It was like she expected a cat-fight or something which made no sense to anyone.

Lauren had told Trish about Angela after meeting her. She'd been happy FDR was introducing her to his friends, but Trish seemed hung up on the fact that this _friend_ was a woman. Even though Lauren repeatedly to her that FDR assured her nothing happened, Trish was unwilling to believe it. She kept asserting that there was no way an admitted player like FDR didn't hook up with the newcomer at least once. It was a statement she began to adamantly repeat after Lauren made the mistake of describing Angela to her.

"So Angela," Trish began again when the young woman had a bite of salmon in her mouth. The group slowly turned to look at the blond who seemed determined to make things more uncomfortable. "You have any kids or anything?"

"_Trish_." Lauren hissed.

Trish ignored her friend completely and kept her eyes glued to the dark-haired woman.

"No," Angela answered, swallowing her food quickly. "Don't plan on any either."

"Why not?" FDR asked. He was a bit surprised a woman of any kind said she didn't want kids. Every woman he ever knew wanted kids at some point in their lives.

"I don't think it's fair."

"Why not?" Trish asked, unable to hide her irritation. "Kids are awesome."

There was something in her voice that made the others wonder if she really thought that or was kind of annoyed she was the only one with a litter of children. Lauren's eyes lingered on Trish. She felt herself wondering if her friend hadn't started hitting the wine a little early.

"Yeah," Tuck offered, hoping to take the weirdness out of the conversation. Angela turned to look at the man staring only at her. "I mean, I love Joe. Best thing in my life."

She smiled almost sadly to the man.

"You're better adjusted than me, Tuck." She said simply.

"Aw, come off it." He replied, the two all but talking to themselves with everyone watching.

Angela forced a smile, but hardly felt better about the situation. She was being consistently put on the spot and children were a touchy subject to her. While she appreciated Tuck's attempts to make her feel more comfortable, it was hardly having an affect.

"Kids are easy." Trish continued. "Just try not to screw them up as bad as your parents screwed you up."

"Lovely sentiment." Tuck muttered, rolling his eyes at the older woman.

"Sure," FDR said in a falsely kind and jovial voice. "I mean, your parents did something right, right? They're probably real proud of you."

Angela fidgeted. "I wouldn't know." She muttered softly before saying something she hadn't said out loud in over a decade. "They died when I was a child."

The air around them shifted again. It seemed like every time the tension would begin to wane, it somehow came back and thicker than before.

"Lucky." They heard Trish mumbled mostly to herself.

Horrified expressions met the woman who didn't seem to notice, too busy in her mission to see the bottom of her wine glass free from liquid. This dinner was becoming worse by the second and the one causing the problems didn't seem to notice she was doing it. Lauren briefly wondered if Trish truly didn't have a 'shut-up' filter, that thing normal people have that tells them not to say something insensitive like 'you're lucky your parents are dead'.

Tuck leaned back in his chair, wiping his hand over his face and put an arm on the back of Angela's chair. He lightly touched her between the shoulder blades, letting his thumb rub her back in the most reassuring way he could. She didn't look up, more than content to swill the rest of her drink in one gulp.

Ignorant to the fact the callous word even left her mouth, Trish noticed Tuck's affectionate action when she was in the middle of pouring herself another drink. She raised a brow to it curiously, wondering if anyone else caught it too.

"So how long have you two been dating?" she asked, drastically changing the subject.

Tuck and Angela looked up at the lush unsurely, their brows pulled together in a confusion that matched Lauren and FDR.

"We're not." Tuck answered, removing his hand from the back of her chair.

Lauren stared at Trish wide-eyed. She'd told the blond Tuck was trying to work things out with his ex, but yet again Trish decided to challenge what Lauren told her by blatantly blurting random things.

"Tuck doesn't have the balls to ask her out." FDR chuckled, almost delighting in the more lighthearted conversation topic. He should have been more wary.

Tuck glared at his friend who seemed more than willing to consistently remind him of his failings a decade prior. Rearing back, he kicked FDR in the shin almost as hard as he could, jostling the silverware on the table when he had.

"Ow man!" he growled, hugging his knee under the table.

"As apposed to you?" Tuck asked in irritation.

"What's that supposed to mean?" FDR shot back angrily.

"How many times you try?"

Lauren and Trish turned judging glances to FDR. He fidgeted when they had.

"I don't remember." He answered quietly.

"Twenty-three." Tuck said, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed triumphantly over his chest.

"You asked her out twenty-three times?" Lauren asked shocked.

"Yeah, but half the time it was a joke." He defended quickly. "Right Angie?"

Attention shifted quickly to the chair Angela sat in… _once _sat in. It was empty.

"Angela?" FDR asked, looking up in time to see the front door close. "Shit." He sighed as he fell back into his chair.

"Angel!" Tuck called.

He shot up from his seat and quickly followed the young woman out.

Silence stretched on for a moment after Tuck left. FDR fought the urge to glare at Trish. Thankfully, Lauren seemed to blame her friend just as much.

"Nice Trish." She said angrily. "Really nice. Did you have to put her on the spot like that?"

"What? They were valid questions."

"They were rude." She snapped.

The woman didn't seem truly bothered by it, but FDR was glad Lauren at least stood up to her friend.

She stood and began to gather the plates to take into the kitchen. Without speaking to Trish or wanting to truly be near her, FDR stood and followed Lauren. She glanced up to see him on the other side of her island as she put her plates in the sink.

"Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what the hell got into her tonight." Lauren said remorsefully. "She's usually a lot better than that."

FDR shook his head.

"It's fine." He sighed, sounding anything but okay with it. "But I should probably go see if I can find her."

"Yeah, of course. Go ahead."

FDR nodded. He hugged Lauren when she came around the island and kissed her before grabbing his jacket to try and find Angela. He didn't bother even looking at Trish before closing the door behind him.

Lauren, on the other hand, was more than willing to lay into her friend. She stormed into the dining room with her hands on her hips.

"What the hell was that about?"

"What?" Trish asked honestly.

"Are you kidding me!?" Lauren suddenly yelled. "You just harangued that poor girl for no reason."

"No I didn't." she scoffed. Trish finished off the rest of her glass and wavered slightly.

Lauren took calculated steps forward. She narrowed her eyes on her friend.

"How drunk are you right now?"

"Really." Trish answered simply.

Lauren didn't say anything else. She shook her head and walked into the other room. She couldn't believe Trish was drunk… Well, perhaps she could, she'd just hoped Trish would have shown some restraint.

~~~!~~~


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

By the time Tuck caught up with Angela, she was already down at the end of the block. He called to her and eventually she seemed to stop and wait for him.

"Will you wait?" he sighed as he jogged to her side. Tuck touched her shoulder and forced Angela to turn. "You alright?"

"What the _hell_ is wrong with that woman?"

"We all have our theories." He joked. Angela laughed like he'd hoped and a bit of the tension lifted. "Come on."

With a kind smile, he took her hand and the two began to walk along the street.

"Sorry about that." He said.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

He shrugged halfheartedly, but still couldn't shake the guilt he had for being part of the reason she was dragged into the situation. When they made it another block, the other half of the reason showed up.

"Hey!" FDR called from within his car. The pair paused and waited as he pulled over and got out. "Where are you guys going?"

"Home." Angela answered simply.

"You live like… ten miles away."

"And I'm fine with walking it."

FDR's brows came together. He sighed heavily and his shoulders dropped.

"I'm sorry about that." He said.

She could tell he was, but it barely helped. Angela was fairly certain she'd be agitated until she was drunk. Still, she softened her angry face and nodded.

"No worries." She told him.

FDR sighed again. He could tell she was trying to make him feel better about it.

Stepping around the front of his car, FDR reached forward and hugged her. He really did feel guilty.

"I'll make it up to you." He said as they parted.

"Oh I know." She agreed. "Flowers. Perhaps booze."

Tuck and FDR laughed at her response. She gave him a kind smile in return.

"You want a lift?" he offered.

"Nah, I'm fine. Thanks though."

"Seriously? You're going to make me feel worse by walking home?"

"Most definitely." She said without hesitation.

"Go on mate," Tuck said with a grin. "I'll take her home."

FDR seemed to reluctantly nod. Despite wanting to remain and take her home himself, he got back into his car and headed to Lauren's again.

"Well then," Angela sighed. She and Tuck began to walk down the sidewalk still holding hands. "I suppose it's a good thing Joe and Katie didn't come."

"Yeah," Tuck let out a nervous laugh. He couldn't imagine how bad that would have been.

The pair continued to walk leisurely down the block until Angela had no choice but to either sit or call a cab. Truthfully Tuck was a bit impressed she'd made it so far in heels, but that didn't stop him from teasing her a little because of it.

They rode to Angela's house. She offered Tuck a drink, a real drink, which he decided to take. After the awful time he'd had at Lauren's house, Tuck could stand a stiff drink and company he actually enjoyed.

When they finally made it into her apartment, Angela didn't miss a beat. By the time Tuck had closed the door behind them, she'd already brought out a half empty bottle of whiskey she'd owned for nearly a year. It was old, triple stilled and worth every penny.

"The good stuff hm?" he teased lightly as he took the bottle and reading the label.

"What can I say?" she shrugged with a grin, placing two glasses on the bar. "I've got expensive taste. Well… that's not true. I just prefer a good drink."

He chuckled as she poured them each a bit and slid him his glass.

"Cheers." He toasted before taking a sip.

The liquid instantly burned his throat, a sensation he wasn't prepared for. It was stronger than what he usually drank and the feeling forced a cough despite the drink being good. Angela looked at him with a sly smile on her lips and a brow raised.

"You alright there?" she asked mockingly.

"It's good." He answered, his voice gruff before he cleared his throat. "Good stuff."

"I can put some water in it if you like?"

Tuck glared lightly which made her laugh.

~~!~~

_JAWS_ was on television. It was on a normal channel which meant a lot of the good stuff was taken out, like the cussing, but the movie was a classic regardless. Both had gotten comfortable, Angela gratefully shedding her boots and socks while Tuck only kicked off his shoes. They were comfortable.

"This movie scared the hell out of me when I was a child." Angela said.

Tuck nodded as he watched the massive shark swim beneath the boat and continue circling the actors on board.

"I was ten. I never wanted to go in the water again." She continued. "Ponds, rivers, swimming pools… nothing I couldn't stand in."

Tuck chuckled, but nodded again.

"I know what you mean. I swore up and down there was a shark in Nana's pond." He said. "Thing's no more than six feet deep at the middle, but I _knew_ there was a shark in there somewhere."

They mused lightly over the mildly traumatizing movie and continued to watch it lazily. Eventually the combination of exhaustion, liquor and the comfort she felt around Tuck caused Angela to do something she probably shouldn't have.

Sliding down a bit further in her seat, Angela leaned over and rested her head against Tuck's shoulder. He glanced to her, surprised by it, but not so much he said anything. In fact, he let his head rest on top of hers and there they sat.

"I'm glad you're back in town." He finally said after a decent amount of silence.

"Me too." She agreed. Angela reached for his hand again and he let her thread her fingers through his. "No jokes about being on a dating site though?"

Tuck smiled to himself.

"Not when that's how I found you." He laughed lightly.

Angela shifted. Tuck lifted his head giving her the freedom to rest it against the back of the couch. She barely pulled away from him in the process and finally stopped moving when her face was barely more than a foot from his.

"Why were _you_ on a dating site?" she asked softly with a teasing glower. There wasn't much need to speak loudly with their proximity. "I thought you're dating Katie again."

"I don't know if you can call it dating," he replied in the same tone and surprising himself with the lie. "Just yet." He corrected. Tuck didn't know where the words came from, only that they left his mouth before he could stop them. "I was taking it down when I spotted your profile."

"Did you have much luck?"

"A bit," he said. Tuck adjusted himself a bit, sinking lower in the couch so he could be eye level with her. "You?"

"A bit." She repeated causing Tuck to smile. "I figured it'd be a good way to find someone normal, but you were the only one to email me without propositioning sex."

"Well," he muttered. "I mean, if it'll make you feel more comfortable."

Angela laughed and shook her head at his obvious joke. Tuck shared the reaction, but the trouble was, he wasn't as sure it was a joke.

"You know what Foster told me when he found out I signed up?" he asked rhetorically. Angela shook her head regardless. A faint smile began to twitch at the corner of his lips at nothing more than the memory of the comment. "He warned me that half the women online pee standing up," she rolled her eyes and began to smile. "And the other half was on watch lists."

"Good Lord," she laughed. Angela placed her palm on her forehead and shook her head at his statement. "Worst part is," she said before meeting his eyes again. "He's probably right."

"Nah, I mean…" Tuck leaned back and looked over Angela with a skeptical eye. "You're not a man… are you?"

Angela reared back and slapped his square on the chest. Tuck laughed happily and rubbed the stinging skin left behind.

"Ass."

"You're the one who agreed with him." Tuck defended weakly.

"You want another smack?" She asked. Angela leaned back a bit and began to rub her hands together. "Cause I'll give you another smack."

Tuck reacted. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her, securing hers to her body and making it impossible to hit him. Angela let out a mild scream as they toppled backwards and in turn off the couch. Tuck landed on his back with a groan, but no injury. His arms were still wrapped securely around Angela making it nearly impossible for her to sit up. The best she could do was crane her neck back far enough to look at the man beneath her.

"You alright?" she asked with a laugh before realizing how close they were. The smile vanished nearly the same time Tuck's did.

"Fine," he answered.

She nodded as though she agreed with his statement, but that was where the movement ended. They were frozen as they were, staring at the one less than a foot away.

Tuck found himself examining Angela. He'd never been so close to her and found it difficult not to. Her skin was fair like most people from the UK, and her hair was ebony black. Her face was delicately heart-shaped, her features rounded to add further innocence to her appearance and her lips lush like his. But it was her eyes that held his attention. He knew they were green, but being so close he was able to see every fleck of gold and every different shade of green they held. It was the perfect medley to give her eyes the fluorescent color they were.

Angela found herself facing the same problem. She knew Tuck was an attractive man; you'd have to be an idiot not to see it, but now she could see more. Unlike her, he had a bronzed complexion from years in the states. He had strong features and a mild dimple in his chin. Stubble covered his cheeks and jaw, never quite being shaved off and making him look the few years older he needed to appear his age. He had scars, but nothing that didn't add to his appearance, like the one that sliced through his right eyebrow. His lips were full, his smile crooked and his eyes a beautiful, fathomless, sea blue.

Seconds ticked by, maybe minutes, and Angela found herself moving. She didn't do it consciously however. Her neck was beginning to ache from the extreme angle and as a result her face was lowering. Tuck noticed. His grip began to loosen and a hand moved on its own.

She felt it glide up her side and soon cup the side of her face. His fingers tensed lightly in her hair and the sensation caused every nerve in her body to tingle. They moved at an agonizingly slow pace towards one another until they were so close their eyes closed on instinct. Angela suddenly felt his lips graze hers. Electricity shot through her veins and just before he kissed her-

_BOOM!_

The loud sound shocked both enough they jerked back into reality and turn towards the source. Chunks of Great White shark flew through the air on the television. The beast was dead. Relaxing when they realized it was nothing horrible, Tuck and Angela looked to one another again.

The sudden reality made them very aware of what they were doing. At the same millisecond, they moved. Frantically trying to end the situation, Angela shoved herself up and off Tuck the same moment he released his hold on her.

Tuck stood abruptly when Angela slid back onto the couch. He moved around nervously, looking about the room as though he'd lost his keys. He cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head like it would help undo the near kiss.

After a moment, he reluctantly looked at Angela. She was sitting on the couch with her tunic styled vest wrapped around her body tighter than before, an arm across her chest and her lips in her hand. She noticed him move and looked up at him through her lashes with a pink blush on her cheeks.

"So uh," he coughed again to clear his throat. Tuck pointed at the door. "It's getting late. I should head home, yeah?"

Angela did little more than nod repeatedly.

"Right." He clapped his hands together firmly. "Bye then."

Angela waved awkwardly with the hand clamped beneath her arm. Tuck didn't move to hug or touch her like he normally would have and instead left the apartment abruptly. The moment he was gone, Angela let out a long sigh and sank back into the couch.

"Oh my god…" she mumbled. "That was close."

Tuck stood in the hall outside her door waiting for the elevator to reach her floor. His mind raced for obvious reasons and all he could keep repeating was how stupid he'd just been.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Tuck stepped inside and leaned against the back wall after pressing the button for the ground floor. His head fell back and his eyes traveled to the mirrored ceiling.

"Too close…" he said to himself.

~~~!~~~

Noises went unnoticed by the young woman who'd had a few more drinks before going to bed. She'd fallen into an alcohol induced stupor after a long day and even longer night. She was nestled deeply in her bed, warm, comfortable and secure.

Ignorant to the world around her, three large shadows stood around the bed. They motioned to each other, giving silent commands for what needed to happen. One pulled out a long plastic object. Pressing a button, the end sparked and cracked with the blue electricity shooting from one prong to the other.

Pain. Pain shot through her jolting every cell in her body awake before forcing it into submission.

When she went limp, the other two leaned forward and pulled her from the bed. One tossed the unconscious body over his shoulder and together the three figures dressed in black disappeared into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Everything around her was black. Her body ached and everything was black. When she tried to move her body and ebb her aching head, she realized quickly she couldn't. Panic began to set it immediately.

A door opened and slammed shut with a tremendous thud. It vibrated through her and made her movements stop. Breathing shallow breaths through her open mouth, she wondered where she was.

"Hello?" she asked tentatively.

No one responded, at least not to her. Before she could speak again, a man started talking in German.

"I-" she began before being abruptly cut off by another man speaking in the same foreign tongue. She realized quickly they weren't talking to her.

Fear began to seep in once again and her body started to tremble. Tears gathered in her eyes. She cried.

The talking ended. Heavy footsteps came closer and with a sharp yank, the blindfold was removed from her eyes. The room was so bright it took her a moment to adjust. When she had, she was horrified.

"Oh god…" she whimpered.

Two men of large stature stood a few feet from her, one holding the black cloth that had been wrapped around her head. They stared indifferently at the young woman shaking in the chair she was handcuffed in.

The room was void of anything that gave the slightest hint to what it might have been used for and that scared her even more. It was vast, brightly lit… and empty. Nothing good happened in empty rooms with concrete floors.

The large man with the shorter hair said something to the one beside him. The second henchman nodded and together they turned.

"Wait!" she screamed when they opened the door. They glanced briefly at her before walking through the thick metal door and letting it clank shut behind them.

The tears came immediately again. She cried uninhibited, scared more than she'd ever been before when she heard it. A soft groan touched her ears, making it through the sniffs and whimpers. She silenced herself and quickly looked around to find the source.

There was someone else, someone that looked like they were in the same situation she was and it was someone she recognized.

"A… Angela?"

The figure with their head down groaned again, but slowly began to come around. Eventually, she lifted her head. Her eyes traveled around the room until spotting the one who'd spoken to her.

"Lauren?" she asked unsurely.

"Yeah," Lauren's voice quivered as she nodded repeatedly.

"Where are we?" Angela asked groggily. She continued to look around and soon noticed the same things Lauren had.

The state of the room led anyone with half a brain to the rational and frightening conclusion.

"I don't know." She replied as she struggled to hold back tears. "There were these guys and they were talking and then they just…"

She was rambling. Angela looked to the young blond and noticed she was verging on a panic attack.

"Hey," she said as reassuringly as she could. Angela forced a weak smile to the woman in her pajamas. "It's okay. We're alright."

"We're handcuffed to a chair in the middle of a dungeon!" she yelled.

Lauren's voice turned shrill and echoed off the walls. Angela winced. She was still nursing a headache and the outburst didn't help.

"Alright," she nodded. "But panicking won't help. You were awake before me, what did you see?" Lauren's mind traveled a millions miles a second, but couldn't find a point to land on. Angela grumbled to herself. "You said there were men, what did they look like?"

"Terrifying." She snapped. Angela fought the urge to be rude, but it was difficult. She understood the fear, hell she was frightened too, but Angela knew panicking helped nothing. Lauren slowly seemed to come to the same assessment. "Tall," she said drawing Angela's eyes. "They were tall. One had really short brown hair, the other one had kind of blond hair." She sniffed. "Um… they were speaking another language. German, I think."

"That's good."

"How does that help?!" she shot back. Angela didn't respond. She could see the fear in Lauren's eyes and knew it was beginning to shift to anger. "I'm going to _kill_ those two."

"The henchmen?" Angela asked with a weak smile. "Well look at you taking initiative."

"Not them." Lauren corrected. "Tuck and FDR."

Angela's brows came together. She tilted her head marginally to the side.

"And why, may I ask, would you do that?" she tried to keep her voice calm.

"This is there fault." She laughed frantically. Her anger was turning to disbelief. "It has to be. You know this is the _second_ time I've been kidnapped by Germans because of those two?" Angela's brows rose on her forehead when Lauren hissed to herself, "Damn spies."

Angela was sure she heard what she thought she did and the only thing she could think to say was, "Of course they are." Lauren looked at her. Angela laughed disbelievingly and shook her head. "I can't meet one single person that's normal. They've all some kind of malady."

A weak smile tugged at Lauren's lips a split second before the henchmen returned. They sauntered into the room, one of them carrying something that looked strangely like a room service cart, complete with a white tablecloth and something hidden beneath draped fabric.

"Oh god…" Lauren mumbled to herself.

She was right to be worried. The blond man gripped the edge of the draped cloth and snapped it back with a flick of the wrist, exposing all manner of silver instruments. It didn't take a genius to realize they were torture devices. Lauren began to cry again, but Angela kept her composure. With someone else there too, she had something else other than herself to focus on.

"Oi! Hanz, Franz!" she called.

The two men large enough they likely had to turn their shoulders in order to get through a door, turned towards the defiant brunette.

"What are you _doing?_" Lauren hissed through her teeth.

Angela did little more than wink at her before shifting her attention back to the men.

"How's about you let the Barbie go? One hostage is enough, yeah?"

They didn't speak. She knew they understood her because they glanced to each other, but neither spoke. After a moment, the brunette reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a phone. He dialed a number and held it to his ear, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the young woman who spoke to him.

"Ya," he said in a deep voice. He began telling whoever had answered on the other end what she'd done and asked what they should do next. He was talking to the boss and Angela knew it.

"Tell him to come see me then if he's so bloody curious." She snapped.

The blond and brunette seemed mildly surprised she understood what they were saying, but the shock fled quickly. Realizing she could understand German, they turned and left to finish their conversation. Angela growled loudly when they had.

"You understood that?" Lauren asked.

"Yeah." She nodded. Angela began to twist her wrists around to feel how tightly she was secured. "You pick up a lot when you travel."

Lauren could do little more than nod. She looked awful, but Angela understood why. She was petrified.

Without warning, the door opened again and the two came back. They walked directly to Angela and to Lauren's horror, lifted her to her feet. Each hooked an arm beneath one of hers and all but dragged the handcuffed young woman out of the room.

"Wait!" Lauren screamed, but the heavy metal door slammed shut without a response.

Angela was led through one winding hallway after another. She tried to commit the layout to memory, do anything that could help her in the end, but there was only so much she could do.

As they took another left down another stark hall, she realized it was a dead end. This one had a door at the end and as she suspected, that was where they stopped. The brunette holding Angela up by her right arm beat heavily against the wooden slab.

"_Betreten."_ Echoed on the other side.

He opened the door and led her inside. Together, the pair set the young woman down in yet another chair with a sloppy drop. She nearly fell out of her seat, but managed to stay.

"Rude." She said simply.

A man, long in years and heavy around the waist, stood on the other side of the room. He eyed the young woman through half-opened eyes. A cigar smoldered from its place between his fat fingers and his stare remained fixed.

"You are not afraid." He said, his accent and jowls weighing down his words.

"Would it help?" she asked.

His thin lips twisted into a smile and something akin to a laugh rumbled in his chest before coming out his mouth as a burst of muffled sound.

"You are very brave girl." He said, pointing at her with the fingers that held the cigar. His smile faded and his features turned dark again. "Or very stupid."

"It's a toss up."

Angela knew that so long as they were busy with her, they'd leave Lauren alone. While frightened for her own safety, Lauren gave her focus. Lauren gave her something else to feel other than fear. Lauren gave her just enough bravery to keep talking.

"Do you know why I bring you here?" he asked, ignoring her comment entirely and instead pressing into the conversation.

"Not really."

"I bring you here because of my sons."

Angela's brows furrowed. She instinctively looked at the men standing near the door.

"What'd we ever do to them?" she asked, turning once again to speak to the Alfred Hitchcock look alike.

"No, no. They are not my sons." He said as he shook his head. Angela found his jowls a little distracting when he had. "Karl and Jonas, those were my sons." Angela didn't like the passed tense reference.

"I don't know who they are." She lied. She'd heard the names before. It was hard not to when the story was barely more than a month old.

"You," he said, again pointing at her though this time the cigar hung from his teeth. "Maybe no, but him," he held up a picture. Angela's heart immediately sank. "And him," he held up another and her heart dropped to the floor. Staring back at her were pictures of Tuck and FDR. "Yes."

Angela's eyes began to water whether she wanted them to or not. Her jaw trembled and made speaking difficult, but she tried.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Angel muttered, "Who are you?"

"I am Tobias," he said. He set the photos down on a small table in the corner she hadn't noticed before and removed the cigar from his mouth. "Heinrick."

"Oh god." She breathed to herself.

"And you and little blond girl," he began to waddle towards her. "Are important to them, yes?"

"Would you believe me if I told you no?" she asked. Blinking, Angela released a tear from each eye. This was worse than she thought and what she thought was pretty bad.

He chuckled darkly again.

"Brave, yes." He seemed to agree with himself. "And no. We have been watching you," he pointed to the two men behind her. "And know you are important."

"What…" she cleared her throat again and tried to remove the quiver from her words. "What do you plan to do with us?"

"If plan goes good, nothing." He replied honestly. "You are not ones I want, but you are _special_ to ones I want. Now, you see why."

"Look, just let the blond go. You don't need her. Use me."

"I think no." he replied. Again her heart fell. "But, if you behave and make no trouble, you both go home."

With the wave of his hand, the goons swooped in again and grabbed Angela. She struggled against them briefly, but they held strong. With a parting glance from her capture, Angela was led out of the room and back towards the dungeon.

The only thing that gave her any comfort was now she knew what was happening, but that was also the problem. Angela prayed internally Tuck and FDR wouldn't do anything stupid. She knew everything could go one of three ways. One, they would be rescued and everyone went home. Two, the women could be rescued at the cost of the men Tobias sought. And three, the most likely and most heartbreaking, they would all die.

Again Angela's eyes began to tear by the time she was led into the dungeon. Lauren had been crying and seemed to calm the moment she realized Angela hadn't been carted off to be shot and thrown into a ditch, but she noticed the look of defeat quickly.

"What?" she asked softly. "What's going on?"

Angela couldn't bring herself to say it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Tuck and FDR were in the middle of sparring, trying to keep fit while they were forced to remain behind a desk.

Tuck had flipped FDR over his body and straight onto his back. He stood over his friend, laughing at what he'd done and the fact FDR was out of breath when his phone beeped.

"Not fair." FDR wheezed.

"But funny." Tuck smiled.

He dug through his gym bag and retrieved his cell phone. He had a new message. Still musing to himself, Tuck opened it and immediately felt the color flee his face at what he saw.

"You alright man?" FDR asked as he waddled towards the bench for his water.

Tuck's fear filled eyes shot to his friend the split second before FDR's phone rang too. Tuck knew in his heart what it might be, but prayed he was wrong.

FDR went through the motions of checking his texts and quickly mimicked his friend's expression. With wide eyes, he shifted to show Tuck the message only to see the Englishman holding up his phone first. It was a picture of Angela, her hair a bit messed and her eyes pink from crying. She was staring angrily at the one taking the picture. Slowly, FDR turned his screen around to show Tuck what he was sent. It was Lauren. Her hair was messed up worse than Angela's because most of it had fallen out of her ponytail and it was more obvious she was crying. She looked petrified.

Before either could speak on the sobering images they'd received, their phones beeped again. Faster than they thought possible, each young man checked the new text.

"_No police. No agents. No Law enforcement of any kind_." Tuck read. _"Or the woman will be killed."_

"_Sundown."_ FDR continued. "And there's an address."

"Same here."

They held their phones side by side to ensure they did indeed have the same message.

"Fifty bucks says that address is in the middle of nowhere."

"Probably." Tuck agreed.

"Who the _fuck_ is this?" FDR hissed.

He tried to hide his rage in the room filled with other agents, but it was difficult.

"I don't know." Tuck replied. He was staring at the picture of Angela. "Enemies."

"Do you realize how long that list is?"

"Miles." He answered under his breath.

His mind raced. He didn't understand why Angela would have been the one they chose to take. He wasn't in a relationship with her like FDR and Lauren. It didn't make sense. The only thing he could rationalize it with was they must have been spying recently and saw him spending time with her. The guilt he felt at her being dragged into his world was incalculable.

"Hey," FDR said, nudging Tuck's arm and jolting him out of his stupor. "Come on."

Tuck nodded. It was about all he could manage, and alongside his brother, left the gym. They had preparations to make.

~~~!~~~

"Do you know what's going on?" Lauren asked for the hundredth time.

Angela had been struggling with the idea of telling her. She didn't want the blond to worry more, but something told her not knowing was making it worse.

"The don't want us." She finally said.

"Then why are we here?" Lauren snapped.

Angela looked up. The sadness on her features was hard to ignore.

"We're the bait."

Understanding washed through Lauren. Her brows furrowed and the tears were renewed.

There was nothing either of them could do. They were stuck in a room somewhere unfamiliar with the guards at the door to make sure they wouldn't do anything stupid. They had no choice but to sit and wait and pray the guys could rescue them. Angela wasn't so sure. One way or another, someone was going to get shot.

~~~!~~~

It took more strength then either young man thought to keep from calling up every resource they had in the agency. They wanted nothing more than to call in a full tactical team, but they couldn't. Forgetting the fact that they were suspended and using CIA resources was illegal within the states, the text said no agents and law enforcement. They were on their own.

~~~!~~~

The GPS coordinates they'd been sent led the pair of them to the middle of nowhere like they knew it would. Tuck and FDR didn't speak the entire drive. They had nothing to say to each other that their partner wasn't already aware of or thinking himself. It was a long drive.

They pulled off the interstate and onto the dirt road that led them deeper into the desert. The coordinates told them to go nearly two hours outside Los Angeles. They were practically kissing Nevada's border which only made them more nervous. They were being secluded.

The GPS dinged, alerting them that they had arrived, so FDR threw the SUV into park. They sat in silence, waiting for any sign from the kidnappers.

"You know this is a trap, right?" FDR asked after they'd been sitting for nearly ten minutes.

"Mhm." Tuck nodded.

Even though their common sense was screaming at them that this was a bad idea, neither could make themselves stop. They had to comply. But, that didn't mean their minds weren't racing with scenarios.

A few minutes later, the two were greeted by giant clouds of dust in the distance. They perked and watched as a small herd of three black SUVs drove closer. The three behemoths sailed towards the pair head-on, over the rocky terrain with little effort before finally stopping more than twenty yards away. The dust slowly began to settle. They didn't breathe.

At the same moment, the doors on all three vehicles suddenly flew open. A man emerged from each and took little more than a step to the side. Each of them quickly brandished an impressive weapon, but was smart enough to remain within diving distance of their respective vehicle.

From the passenger side door of the middle SUV emerged a man neither of them knew. He was wide, bulbous and balding. FDR shot Tuck a confused stare which his friend shared.

"Who the fuck's that dude?" FDR hissed under his breath as thought he'd be overheard.

"No clue." Tuck replied with a shake of the head. He turned back to the scene in front of them. "Where are-"

Before the question could be fully formed, it was answered. Two men on either side of the same SUV reached into the passenger side doors and pulled out a pair of young women in their night clothes. Tuck and FDR felt the air flee their lungs. Lauren nearly fell. Her legs seemed to have trouble supporting her small frame as she was led forward, while Angela was simply angry. She scowled and fought her capture as much as she could despite her hands cuffed behind her body.

Someone handed the fat man something that looked like the receiver to a CB radio. They watched him curiously before hearing a horrible shriek and the familiar click of a speaker coming on.

"Time to get out." The fat man said. His voice echoed around them easily despite the distance.

Both men hesitated, but once the guns of the men holding Angela and Lauren were aimed at the young women's heads, the spies all but jumped from their car. Their hands went up on instinct.

"Okay!" FDR yelled. "Don't hurt them!"

"Lift up your shirts." Tobias commanded before either of them could take a step forward.

"Not a chance!" FDR replied.

At the same instant, nine out of the eleven people with guns sharpened their aim on the spies. The two holding Lauren and Angela kept theirs firmly pressed to the women's heads instead. FDR growled while Tuck struggled to keep from screaming at the henchmen.

"My men say yes." Tobias said easily.

"Fine!" Tuck yelled.

He slowly reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it. He turned around to show the fat man he didn't have a gun hidden in his waistband and lowered his shirt when he faced them again. FDR mimicked his friend's movements, but did actually have a gun hidden at his back. He didn't bother waiting for them to say anything and instead took it out with his fingertips and tossed it through his open door and onto his seat. He then reached into his pocket and repeated the action with the spare mag he'd hidden before lifting his shirt and turning to show them he was finally unarmed.

"Idiot." Tuck hissed loud enough his friend heard.

"Like you didn't think about it." FDR shot back.

"Walk forward." Tobias demanded over the loud speaker.

The pair began to take slow, deliberate steps forward with their hands still in the air. They met at the head of their vehicle and continued side by side.

"I knew they'd check for a bloody gun." He said under his breath so they wouldn't be overheard. "At least tell me you've got a knife."

"The hell do you think I am? An amateur?"

Tuck shot a glare to FDR out of the corner of his eye. They said nothing else to each other, but let their gaze shift forward again. The closer they got, the less attention they paid to the men with the guns. FDR's expression turned sad when he looked at Lauren. Tuck couldn't keep the remorse from his when he looked at Angela.

When they were within ten or so feet of the procession, men from the SUV's on the side mobilized and soon surrounded the agents. They stopped walking shortly after that while Angela and Lauren were pushed forward. When Tobias sauntered over, he motioned to his men to begin uncuffing the women. He wasn't worried about them or the spies, not when there was so much firepower on his side.

"Everything's going to be fine, babe." FDR told Lauren.

"You sure?" she asked weakly.

He smiled as reassuringly as he could. When she was free, he moved towards her and no one stopped him. He wrapped his arms around her immediately while he had the chance before the man who removed Lauren's cuffs grabbed FDR's arms and snapped them onto him.

"I am so sorry, Angel." Tuck told her sadly.

"Yeah well…" she mumbled as she was jostled from side to side until her arms were free. "I bet you wish that shark hadn't blown up now, don't you?"

Tuck laughed before he could stop himself. The comment was so random he had no other choice. Lauren and FDR had no idea what they were talking about, but they had other things to worry about than their friends' inside jokes.

The Englishman reached forward and hugged Angela tightly. She clung to him the same way and even buried her face in the nape of his neck. Shortly after, Tuck was manhandled just as FDR had been and torn away from her to be handcuffed.

"Now," Tobias said. He stepped forward so he could speak to the women only. "The two of you, go now, before I change my mind."

They were both hesitant to move, but neither had a choice. Half of the weaponry was quickly trained on them. They were being shoved away from the scene and there was nothing anyone could do about it. With their choice taken away, Lauren and Angela reluctantly seemed to find their footing and began to walk towards the car.

"We can't just leave them here to die." Lauren said desperately as she and Angela approached the vehicle the guys had left behind.

Angela shook her head. Her anger was beginning to boil every nerve in her body.

"We won't." she answered with a tight jaw. Lauren watched her curiously.

They made it to the car quickly enough and turned. Angela was standing at the driver's side while Lauren was at the passenger door. They looked back in time to see both FDR and Tuck's legs swiped out from beneath them and take them violently to the ground. They were on their knees with a dozen guns aimed.

"Oh god…" Lauren breathed.

Angela shared her sentiment, but noticed something out of the corner of her eye. FDR's gun shined in the dying light from its place in his seat. She felt a single brow slowly rise.

Stepping sideways behind the door, Angela reached for the weapon. The sudden movement caught Lauren's attention. She spotted the gun, the extra clip and Angela inspecting it while checking on the scene ahead at the same time. To Lauren's shock, Angela popped out the gun's existing mag, checked the ammo then snapped it back in. She pulled back the slide and made sure there was one in the chamber before grabbing the spare clip and shoving it into the waistband of her shorts.

"The hell are you doing?" Lauren hissed.

"Something stupid." Angela admitted freely before stepping out from behind the door and raising the weapon.

Gunfire raged.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The henchmen weren't paying Lauren or Angela the slightest bit of attention once Tuck and FDR were in their custody. They still surrounded the pair on their knees. Not even Tobias bothered checking if they women had left. Evidently, they were considered too weak to be worth the worry. That was the wrong thought.

Angela stepped out from behind the open door of the car and towards the crowd with her weapon aimed high. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. FDR and Tuck looked up and to their horror saw Angela approaching. They were facing the car, trying to get one final look at the two women, before seeing something that chilled their blood.

Despite having bare feet, Angela's steps were determined and sure. She hadn't even made it to the grill of the car before she started firing. One went down, then another and another. The shock of what was happening lasted just long enough Angela was able to remove nearly half of the problem before they were smart enough to take cover and return fire. But they were frantic, sloppy, and she was calm.

The five remaining henchmen fired aimlessly from behind the open doors of the SUV, trying to both kill the threat and protect their boss. When they had, Angela started to sprint towards them. Her body burned, her muscles hurt and the adrenaline running through her made her feel invisible.

The two spies had fallen to their sides to try and remain as low to the ground as they could. Neither could tear their eye from Angela.

When the clip was empty, she didn't miss a beat. With an action that was obviously practiced, she released the empty magazine and snapped the new one in place within seconds.

Angela's eyes were trained only on the threats. She shot one through a window, another in the gap between the door and the car. One was too far away from his cover and received a shot to the neck because of it. The fourth she shot in the knee beneath the door which took him to the ground where he was met with a bullet to the brain. The fifth was smart. Being the last, he soon left the shelter of the SUV and grabbed one of the guys. The large German hoisted Tuck up from the ground and held him in front as a shield between her and him. Angela immediately stopped.

"Drop the fucking gun!" he bellowed in Tuck's ear.

"Okay." Angela said softly, trying to keep him calm.

She slowly began to kneel to set the gun on the ground in front of her. Angela kept her eyes firmly on Tuck. His face was blank, speckled in the slightest bit of blood. She didn't know which henchman it'd come from and neither did he.

Angela directed her eyes down when she was nearly to the ground; praying Tuck understood what she was trying to say. The second she set the weapon down, Tuck let his knees go lax. His bodyweight was more than the henchman expected and he faltered. It was enough. A final gunshot echoed and he crumbled to the ground.

Everything went eerily silent. None of them heard the groaning coming from the other side of the SUV.

Tuck and FDR slowly shifted, sitting upright and eventually standing, all the while staring blankly at the woman with the gun. Her eyes danced between the two. She knew they were about to start spouting questions, but they didn't immediately get the chance. Lauren came rushing forward, talking a millions miles a minute and struggling to find the keys to the cuffs. Still they stared at each other.

A few minutes had passed before they were free from their cuffs. After hugging the relieved Lauren, FDR and Tuck took small steps towards Angela.

"Explain." FDR finally said.

"Explain what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Tuck and FDR were suddenly fuming.

"Where did that come from?!" Tuck demanded angrily.

"How do you know how to shoot a gun?!" FDR bellowed.

"Who are you?!"

"Who do you work for?!"

The questions came so fast, Angela had trouble meeting the eyes of the one yelling at her. When they did finally stop however, Angela opened her mouth to speak. She'd never get the chance.

A loud pop echoed around them, bouncing off the mountains and meeting their ears with a harsh bang.

Angela lurched. Her brows came together. Hesitantly, she glanced down and touched her chest just below her breast. She was bleeding. When her eyes moved up, she saw Tobias struggling to keep his heavy weapon aimed at the young woman.

She'd shot him earlier, but only in the hip which made running away impossible. They hadn't given him a second thought when his men were down and she was paying for it. In the confusion, he'd found a weapon and took aim at the young woman who'd killed them all.

Without hesitation, Angela raised her gun and fired. Tobias went still the moment the bullet tore through his skull.

Angela felt the burn of the bullet that ripped through her torso and the heat of the blood that was no longer inside her body. It flowed from both the entry and exit wounds. No one moved, still in shock of what happened and unable to until Angela dropped her gun and suddenly dipped. Her stance had wavered, but she hadn't fallen. Not yet.

Tuck raced for her and grabbed her before she hit the ground. He guided Angela to the ground so she could sit. In the few seconds that had passed since she was shot, her skin had lost a shade of color and the blood had already trailed down to her thighs.

"Angel," he said. Tuck adjusted her so she could look at him. "Hey, I've got you."

Angela could do little more than nod. She tried to breathe, but she was having trouble. It felt like she was trying to breathe through a towel. The others could hear the gurgle and knew her lung had been pierced because of the upward shot.

Everything moved so quickly after that. Tuck lifted her into his arms and took her away from the carnage she'd created. FDR threw open the hatch of their SUV and Tuck didn't hesitate to lay her down inside. FDR rushed for his cell phone and called for a med-vac. They both knew they'd never make it anywhere with her, and that she needed care quickly. A helicopter was their only hope.

It didn't take long for Angela to begin losing her battle with consciousness. Fear surged through Tuck as he watched her eyes lose focus.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said quickly. Tuck was struggling to keep pressure on both bullet wounds. "Stay with me. Come on girl."

"I'm sorry." She breathed.

Tuck all but froze when she finally spoke.

"Why'd you say that?" he asked calmly, trying not to show how relieved he was she was talking.

"I'm usually a better shot."

Tuck laughed weakly. She tried to do the same at her stupid joke, but started coughing shortly after. The gurgle was worse and when she coughed, a bit of blood touched her lips.

Her eyes began to drift again and her lids grew heavy. Tuck tried to shake her awake, but she was losing the battle. The noises around her turned into nothing more than a soft buzz and everything went black.

~!~

Angela had been in surgery for two hours already and still none of them had relaxed. FDR and Lauren held each other's hands while Tuck struggled to keep from running his through his hair or touch his face. He was covered in her blood and every time he wanted to revisit a familiar tick like chewing on his nails or something along those lines, he was confronted with her blood. He would have washed it off if the bathroom wasn't so far away. He didn't want to leave in case something happened. She'd already died once in the helicopter…

Having used his credentials to get the med-vac team to their location faster, FDR inadvertently alerted their boss to what happened. She sent a cleanup team to deal with everything left behind, but was surprised by what she found in the process. It didn't take her long to find a particular interest in the 'stewardess'.

~!~

Four hours, thirteen minutes later, a doctor emerged to tell the three who'd brought in the victim that she was out of surgery, but still in critical condition. They'd moved her to another wing of the hospital, but she couldn't have visitors. At the moment, Tuck, FDR and Lauren were staring at Angela through a plate glass window while she slept a few feet away.

Lauren had to excuse herself. She said she had to go to the bathroom, but honestly FDR thought she might be sick more than anything else. Her mortality was just shoved in her face and he knew she likely wanted to vomit. FDR and Tuck understood, but remained behind.

They didn't know why they were watching her. Neither could speak to her, touch her, nor be in the same room as her, but they just couldn't leave.

The sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor went unnoticed by the two men staring at the young woman connected to at least three different machines. It wasn't until the person approaching stood between them that either of them took notice. FDR and Tuck turned to see their boss standing between them.

"Your friend?" Collins asked in her typical deadpan voice.

They nodded, but didn't truly answer because they knew she was fully aware of their situation.

Collins held up a folder. She didn't offer it to either in particular, but FDR was the closest so he took it.

"Your mess has been cleaned. You'll debrief in the morning."

And without another word, Collins turned and left. She had come simply to give them the folder of what she found and to visually inspect the pair of them. Her curiosity was the only thing that brought out the otherwise 'office dwelling' agent.

FDR finally tore his eyes away from the haunting scene and opened the folder he'd been handed. His brows furrowed and his stomach dropped immediately.

"Jesus," he muttered as he took in the information.

Tuck barely managed a sideways glance. He didn't want to look away from the woman in the bed, but saw enough to know FDR was reading the folder.

"What?" he asked under his breath.

"Uh," FDR continued to read, even going so far as to flip through a few pages before letting his eyes shift once more to the woman in the other room. "Basically, she's never been a stewardess." Tuck slowly turned his head towards his friend who was staring in the window. "And her name's not Angela Saunders."

Tuck's gaze sharpened on his friend. Hesitantly, he looked at the ebony haired woman lying in the bed with a respirator jammed down her throat, the one who'd saved their lives only a few hours earlier, and that they'd '_known_' for nearly a decade.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

FDR had long since taken Lauren home. That day and the previous night had taken a hefty toll on her, so he didn't hesitate. He struggled to get Tuck to do the same. The Englishman didn't want to leave '_Angela'_ alone in the hospital, but FDR made the argument that he needed to bathe. Tuck couldn't fight that.

After showering and scrubbing '_Angela's'_ blood from beneath his fingernails, Tuck finally emerged from the shower. He saw the folder lying on his coffee table when he emerged and hesitated to step towards it. He stared at the brown paper as though it would spout nothing but lies even though the rational side of his brain doubted it.

Eventually, Tuck sat on his couch and with unsteady hands, opened the folder that had dominated FDR's attention the whole time they were at the hospital.

"Jesus," he breathed. It was only the cover page and he was having trouble believing his eyes.

He was immediately presented with a picture of _Angela_ wearing a military uniform. It was a green he'd seen more than once in the American Army along with the black beret on her head and the insignia it bore. She didn't smile, but even with the uniform and the obvious change in appearance, he'd be able to recognize her anywhere.

Below the photo were her stats.

_Name: Machara Isabel Keagan_

_Born: 14-12-1985_

_Birthplace: Glasgow, Scotland_

_Enlistment: 22-1-2004_

_Military Branch: Army_

_Rank: Captain_

_Unit:_

That part had been redacted, blacked out entirely so no one reading her file would know who she was attached to. It immediately made Tuck suspicious… well, more so than he already had been.

He continued through the rest of her personal information.

_Family: N/A_

_Dependants: None_

_Notes: Expert marksman. Excels in hand to hand combat. Multiple languages._

_Discharge: 2-2-2013_

He stared at the brisk definition of _Angela's_ life. It was short and to the point, an outline of the bare essentials and none of it was anything Tuck knew beforehand. The only thing she'd been honest about was her birthday. Nothing more.

It took some convincing before Tuck flipped the page to see what lay in the half of the file beneath her biography, but it did little to explain anything. The three pages that were included in the file were heavily redacted. He assumed they were her specific missions which explained why they said nearly nothing.

Growling to himself, Tuck elected to see if the paperwork attached to the other side of the file would be any more helpful. Barely. It was her medical history. It outlined the horrible things she'd gone through, the damage her body had sustained only a few years prior to being discharged.

She'd been let go six months before coming back to Los Angeles, med-boarded out because they didn't want to pay for anymore 'repairs'. Having his own extensive medical background considering the work he did, Tuck was more than capable of creating the scenarios in his mind that led up to each injury and they weren't inspiring. The final one, the one that had her kicked out, was the worst by far.

_Angela_ had been admitted to a military hospital in Germany –from where they didn't say- with substantial injuries that led her to be there for nearly three months. She'd gone through more than one surgery, had to be medically placed in a coma, and needed months of rehab. According to the list, she was still supposed to be attending it even now as she lay in another hospital bed.

Tuck tossed the open file onto the coffee table again. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his lips in his hand. He stared at the picture of a woman he thought he knew only to realize there was nothing about her that was true. Everything she'd told him, everything they'd based a nine year friendship on, was nothing more than a cover story.

Questions began to surge through his mind. Tuck wondered if he was part of the cover too, if FDR was. He wondered if she was supposed to blend in and form friendships. He wondered if she even liked them at all or it was all part of the job. And then, darker thoughts came. Tuck suddenly began to think she was spying on them, that her being undercover meant he and FDR must have been part of her mission. He began to think that she was watching them, trying to learn about their lives so she could report back to the people who blacked out her file and tell them whatever they wanted to know.

His concern for _Angela_, the confusion and fear he'd felt in regards to her in the passed few hours was suddenly gone and replaced with betrayal and anger. He couldn't help it. Angela he liked, he cared about and was scared for. Machara? He didn't know who the hell she was.

His eyes fell to the photograph that was prominently displayed only a foot away. Tuck was forced to rethink and reconsider everything he thought he knew about _Angela_. While lying may have been his job, he felt an undeniable betrayal at hers and he couldn't even ask her about it until she woke up.

~!~

Her body ached more than she thought possible. Every muscle twitch, every breath, radiated through her with horrible agony. It felt like someone had embedded needles into her flesh and every tensing muscle jostled them.

_Angela_ slowly pried open her heavy lids. The light burned immediately and forced her to groan. The groan forced her to cough. The cough forced everything else to hurt more. For some reason, _Angela_ felt like she'd been run over by a steam roller.

After a few steadying breaths to calm her lungs and give her eyes time to adjust, she opened them once more and took in her surroundings. She was met with stark walls, no artwork, machines that beeped loudly and the smell of disinfectant. It burned her nose as much as breathing in general burned her lungs.

Her vision was blurry at first, but slowly began to come back to her the same time a nurse came into the room. The spike in her heart monitor didn't go unnoticed by the staff.

"Well," she sang as she walked to _Angela's_ bedside, smiling wide as she did. "Looks like someone's finally woken up."

"Where-"

That was the extent of _Angela's_ range of vocabulary before her throat scratched again and the coughing started all over. She couldn't fight the groan that accompanied the fit.

"Oh," the nurse sighed sadly. She quickly poured _Angela_ a glass of water and helped her drink it.

_Angela_ coughed into the glass a bit, but the water did help her relax the muscles in her throat and give her lungs a chance to calm. After a few small gulps –because anything more hurt worse than the coughing- _Angela_ nodded her thanks and leaned back into her bed.

"You're at _Good Samaritan Hospital_ in Los Angeles." She said kindly as she set the nearly empty glass down again. _Angela _didn't bother hiding her irritated confusion. "You've been shot." This time the irritation was gone and _Angela _was simply confused. "How about I go get the doctor?"

_Angela_ nodded repeatedly. She didn't bother trying to speak again because she didn't want a repeat of what already happened. She waited impatiently for a man in blue scrubs and a white jacket walked into her room with a smile and a chart. She hated him immediately.

"Good morning, Miss Saunders." He greeted. Like with the nurse, he stepped to her side to examine her machines. "I'm Doctor Watkins. How are you feeling today?"

She raised an angry and irritated brow that he noticed when he turned around to see why she hadn't said anything.

"Understandable." He nodded. "And I'd imagine you're still a bit hoarse." She nodded tersely. "Well, let's see." He looked to her chart to refresh his memory. Honestly, it just made her glare. _Angela_ felt like he wasn't a decent doctor if he didn't know who she was. "Alright, you were brought in two days ago with a gunshot wound to you chest. The bullet entered just below your left breast where it fractured your fourth rib, ruptured the lower lobe of your lung and exited through your shoulder blade." He read as easily as if it had been the time. When he looked up, he saw absolute horror on her face. He continued regardless. "You lost a few pints of blood on your way here, but after surgery, we were able to repair the damage. You had to be kept on a ventilator, of course. That's why your throat is so scratchy."

_Angela's_ brows had pulled together. The emotional shift on her face had gone from angry to horrified within the expanse of his explanation. Her eyes were tinting pink and tears were starting to gather.

"You're lucky."

She shot him an angry glare, but it lost a bit of it's power with her near tears.

"The bullet missed your heart by millimeters." He explained.

She looked down and blinked, sending the tears gliding down her cheeks. She didn't remember it. She didn't remember being shot or what happened afterward. All she could remember was Tuck and FDR on their knees with guns aimed.

The doctor left at some point, but _Angela_ didn't know when. She didn't care. The only thing that seemed to make it through her haze was that she ended up in another hospital bed with more scars to add to the list.

_Angela _buried her face in her hands and cried. Even crying hurt…

She didn't know she wasn't entirely alone. Tuck had come by to check on her. He didn't know if it was some kind of morbid curiosity of genuine concern that brought him to the hospital, but he was there regardless, standing on the other side of the plate glass window like he had before.

As he stared at her, his anger began to diminish. He couldn't help it. For a moment he didn't see Machara in the hospital bed crying because she was hurt and alone, he saw _Angela_ and it broke his heart.

_Angela_ continued to silently weep into her hands. The action hurt her chest and now she knew why. She knew why breathing hurt, why moving and crying hurt. She was broken again and it was going to take everything she had to try and heal.

The opening door went unnoticed to the woman in the bed. It wasn't until the loud clunk echoed through the room that she looked up. Tuck stood on the other side of the room with his hands in his pockets and a blank expression. She wanted nothing more than to beckon him to her so he could hug her and make her feel better, but he didn't move. She could tell something was wrong.

Slowly, Tuck approached until he stood at the base of her bed. _Angela_ didn't attempt to speak or move. She waited for him to do something first.

"Machara." He said after a few moments of silence.

_Angela's_ face immediately fell and her already sickly pale skin lost a shade of color. She remained silent which he expected. When he said her name, her _real_ name, Tuck had the confirmation he needed to find footing in his anger.

Reaching into his back pocket, Tuck pulled out the folder he'd brought with him and tossed it onto her bed. The bent chunk landed on her lap. She hesitated to pick it up, but eventually did. The moment she opened it to see what was inside, her eyes darted to Tuck. His jaw tensed.

"It true?" he asked.

Her eyes moved once more to the folder. She took in everything she already knew and tossed it away from her quickly. _Angela_ wiped her hands down her face before crossing her arms over her chest. She refused to look at Tuck again.

"Where…" the word was cracked and hoarse. It hurt, but she was determined to speak. "Did you get that?" she bit back the cough that threatened to come free.

"Collins, our boss." He answered curtly. "She did some diggin' on the one who killed a handful of German terrorists."

Her brows came together and the tears gathered again, but she refused to look up. She could hear the anger in his voice and it frightened her.

"It true?" he asked again.

She didn't speak and instead nodded. Tuck felt every muscle in his body jolt with electricity. He'd been able to lie to himself until that point. He'd been able to fool himself just a bit into thinking she was still Angela, but she wasn't. The woman in the bed was Machara Keagan, because Angela never existed.

"There anything about you that's real?" he asked angrily.

The cold tone forced Machara to look up and see him standing at the foot of her bed fuming.

"Everythin' just a fuckin' lie with you?!" he demanded. Tuck couldn't help but yell. "Were you working us this whole time? Was there _anything_ you told me that wasn't bullshit?!"

"Tuck!"

The Englishman spun on his heel to see FDR and Lauren standing in the door behind him. They'd come to check on Machara too, but soon found Tuck in the middle of a tirade, berating the woman in the hospital bed and he had to interject.

"Take a break, man."

Tuck's jaw flexed and relaxed. He shot Machara a glower before storming out of the room without another word.

"I'll go talk to him." Lauren said softly. She turned around and followed after the angry young man.

FDR sighed and let the door close quietly behind him. His gaze shifted to the woman in the bed.

"So, your name's not Angela, hm?" he said without a hint of emotion.

Her blood ran cold.


End file.
